The Looking Glass
by FlamingRedFox
Summary: Some dreams are destined to never come true, ever. At least this way the worst of the pain lasted only one night." A glimpse into a dark past, a darker future, and a present taken for granted. One-shot RPOV


**I disclaim…**

**A/N: **"Emmett, promise me you'll never hurt me." That line has been bouncing around my head all day and was the starting part for this fic. Surprisingly, by the time I finished writing it there was no place for it to fit in a straight dialogue. The basic idea of the line is still there though, and I think it came out better than if I had Rosalie actually say it. As much as I love writing Rosalie, I can't seem to write anything more than her darker, more vulnerable side. So, enjoy this angst laced character study mixed with some bittersweet fluff. I certainly enjoyed writing it. ;P

So this was completed about three days before Christmas. Didn't have time to post it until now though. Happy holidays everyone!

**Summary: **When Rosalie gets a glimpse into the life she could have had, the life she should have had if she had only called her father that cold April night, she makes a silent promise. Some dreams aren't meant to come true, ever. Set sometime during Eclipse.

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_The Looking Glass  
__A Twilight Series FanFiction  
__By: FlamingRedFox  
__Rosalie's Point of View_

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"Excuse me, ma'am?"

And old, worn, broken voice cut through the silence of the night. It seemed to echo and swirl in a haunting manner, bouncing off abandoned streets and forgotten walls. It had the rasp of a heavy smoker, and yet it was still distinctly feminine. And, the source of it was near impossible to find. Of course, for me near impossible meant easy as pie.

I paused in the dark, deserted lane lit only by a lone streetlamp. There was something eerily familiar about this situation, and yet it was so different from that dreadful night so long ago. For one, there was no group of men lurking around the corner waiting to bring me to my demise. Secondly, even if there was, I would be the nightmare in this situation, not them. And thirdly, this was Forks, Washington and not Rochester, New York. In terms of humans, Forks was definitely the safer of the two towns. It terms of _everything_, though, I think I'd rather take my chances in New York…

No, this day wasn't like that day at all. The only similarities were that I was alone on a dark street being beckoned by an at first unfamiliar voice. This voice had made the mistake of calling me ma'am, though. My ocher eyes hardened as my brow narrowed. I reached up a hand to flick a lock of long, golden blonde hair over my shoulder. I most certainly was not a ma'am. A woman happily married for more than seventy years, yes, but never a ma'am.

"Do I look like a ma'am to you?" My tone was harsh, full of bitterness and annoyance. It hadn't been hard to find the old woman that summoned me. She was hiding in the shadows, just at the edges of the glow from the streetlamp. From her hunched posture and sever voice I could only assume she was well on in years. A tattered cloak was held tightly around her shoulders, the patched hood shielding her eyes. At her feet sat a giant, old carpet bag. It was rather reminiscent of the one in _Mary Poppins_. This woman looked very out of place for Forks, to say the least. She looked more like the enchantress from the Disney version of _Beauty and the Beast_. The way she was clutching an antique, fracture hand mirror I'd say she was that enchantress. I knew better to believe in fairy tales though.

"Could have fooled me."

My frustrated gaze turned into a glare as she chuckled darkly. Who was this woman to judge me? She knew as much of me as I knew of her, and that was nothing at all. And yet she still smiled like she knew everything there was to know about me. It was that same conceited smirk Edward often wore as he invaded the privacy of our minds. It was utterly infuriating.

The old woman must have found my anger funny because she laughed again. This time, however, her words held a qualification of her earlier statement.

"You're a ma'am whether you look it or not. Had things been different, you would look it. Given your current circumstance, you do not. Though I must say, you are much better off now than you ever would have been. Some dreams are destined to never come true, ever. At least this way the worst of the pain lasted only one night."

"What the hell are you talking about old woman?" My voice was laced with acid. Who was she and what on earth was she talking about? Clearly her age had scrambled her brains. She was talking in riddles, talking as if she knew. Talking as if she knew… As if she knew I was a… _vampire_. My mind spat the word and my icy glare grew colder. I don't know why I stopped to begin with. It was clear that no good would come from this conversation. But, what if she really did know the truth? I'd have to inform the others… To do so would require more information. Lord knows the last time I jumped the gun on something I'd almost gotten my brother killed. Guilt does not look good on me.

"Take this Rosalie Hale, and see for yourself," she chuckled. "And stop forsaking your present by dwelling on your past. Being jealous of Miss Sawn will help nothing, but you already knew that didn't you."

It was a statement spoken with such conviction that there was no room left for argument. She held out one hand to me, cloaked in a knitted glove without fingers. In the palm of her hand was the mirror, its glass cracked in two and its bronze, intricately designed handle tarnished. With a bit of restoration it would be a gorgeous antique, very valuable. Why this strange woman was offering it to me instead of pawning it off for a meal and some decent clothing I did not know.

Almost instinctively I snatched it from her hand. I gazed at myself in the shattered glass for a moment, taking in my ever darkening eyes and deepening frown. Even with the fracture my reflection was still stunning. I couldn't help the smile that accompanied that realization. It lingered on my features until I had a second realization. That old woman had addressed me by name, and mentioned Bella as well. I'd never given her that information.

"How did you…" My question was cut off as I looked away from my reflection. Where the woman had been standing a moment ago was nothing. She had vanished. Not even her footprints lingered in the snow. It was as if she had just melted away into the shadows. I should have heard her leaving, but I didn't… I blinked several times as I peered into the darkness, searching for any signs of life. Failing, I glanced down at the mirror in my hands again. It was the only tangible sign that I hadn't been alone just a moment ago. It was the only thing that made me positive that I wasn't hallucinating.

I bit my bottom lip as I took one last look around. Snowflakes danced in the warm glow of the lamp, too small to exist for more than a moment. Houses lined either side of the street, separated by snow covered greenery. Their lights were dark; the humans were sleeping peacefully, unaware of what was lurking in the shadows. I was utterly alone and unable to chase away the sense of weariness that seemed to hang in the chilly winter air. I don't know what I was afraid of; I was the one to be feared.

Gritting my teeth I clenched my fingers tightly around the handle of the looking glass. That old woman had left a knot in the pit of my stomach and I didn't like it one bit. Her words had been unsettling, cryptic as they were, and I hated it. What did she mean I was better off now than I ever would have been? What did she mean some dreams were destined to never come true? What should I see for myself? What would be any different looking in this mirror than one of the dozen I had back home? I'd been left with more questions than I had answers to, and my only clue was an old, broken mirror. _Ridiculous_.

I had barely been able to compose my thoughts as I started running, heading for the manor. I needed to get off this street. I wanted to be in my room. The boys were out hunting so I'd be able to think clearly. I had no clue what Alice already knew of the situation that had just transpired, but I didn't really care. Looking into the future would only tell her the outcome, not the answers to the questions I had. To get the answers I apparently needed to look at the past.

I was in the driveway, through the door, and up the stairs in a matter of minutes. My bedroom door slammed behind me with a little too much force as I pulled it shut and halted my frantic pace. Whoever was home would know I had returned, but judging by the slammed door they would probably assume I was angry at something and leave me to myself. I really did need to learn better control over my darker emotions. At least Emmett wasn't around. He was the only one who ever openly showed his concern for me and right now I was grateful for the solitude.

Taking a deep, unnecessary breath I settled myself in the center of the king sized bed Emmett and I shared. I cradled the mirror delicately in my lap, closing my eyes. Normally I couldn't get enough of my reflection. Something told me, however, that this mirror was different. I had a sinking feeling that whatever I was about to see would be unpleasant, something I didn't want to see. For the longest time I just sat there, eyes closed and mirror in my lap, prolonging the inevitable. I had to look if I wanted answers though. The words of the woman still haunted my mind, and the only way to chase them away would be by looking.

Cautiously I cracked one eye open, and then the other. I had never been so weary of a mirror in my entire life. It didn't take long for my gaze to settle on my reflection in the cracked glass. It wasn't me, though. Well, it wasn't me any more. The woman staring back had the same beautiful blonde locks I did, though they were curled and permed and pinned under a hat. Her eyes were a striking violet shade of blue instead of the shimmering topaz, and a jealous smile contorted her painted lips. I stared at the image in shock, wondering why my human self was staring back at me.

My jaw fell open as the image suddenly shifted, playing for me the memories I had so desperately clung to when I had first been changed. It was like watching an old 1930s movie in Technicolor, only instead of having Katharine Hepburn or Jean Arthur in the leading role I was the star. Only in this piece of fiction there was no Carey Grant or Errol Flynn to sweep me off my feet…

My eyes were glued to the glass, the crack appearing nonexistent as I watched myself playing with Vera's little Henry. My brain fogged over as my own hazy memories played along side the reflection: the secretive glances and touches between Vera and her husband, the laughter and smiles from Henry as he bounced in his mother's lap… And then something flickered in the mirror that did not match my memories. It was me with the telephone in hand, impatiently waiting for the dial to reset so I could continue punching in the familiar number. I'd always hated how many eights, nines, and zeros existed in the Hale family telephone number. But, I had never dialed my home from Vera's house that night. I'd never asked my father to walk me home. I had wandered the streets alone, and that had been my fatal mistake.

It was then that the old woman's words began to make sense. "Had things been different," she had said. The looking glass wasn't showing my memories. It wasn't showing me the final result. No. It was showing me what would have happened if I hadn't rationalized not needing an escort. As the human Rosalie walked down the lane on her father's arm the drunken men paid them no mind. Royce spared them a glance but never called my name. Things continued as they should have. No rape. No battery. No Carlisle arguing with Edward over changing me as a fire consumed and transformed my body.

The next few images flashed by in fast-forward. They were nothing important, just wedding plans and more time spent with Vera and her family. It was like scrolling through a slideshow on the computer, most of these images simply color stills when they should have been in black and white. I never once blinked as I watched the progression of potential memories, what could have been a happy, human life. Was this what it was like for Alice when she had her visions of the future? Only, those vision came before the final decision so as to keep her from choosing wrong. But the old woman had said I was better off now. Had I chosen wrong that day, or hadn't I?

The slideshow morphed back into the motion picture and I couldn't suppress my gasp. It was my wedding day, or what was supposed to be my wedding day. I dug my nails into the comforter as I watched human Rosalie glide down the aisle, a proud smirk on her face as she began the transformation into Mrs. Royce King II. The decorations were elaborate, the guests numerous, and the vows traditional. I was beautiful and Royce was handsome, and I had to fight down what felt like nausea as I watched the scene unfold. Poor, unsuspecting, innocent human Rose had no clue what she was marrying. I did though, and the thought of seeing my self kiss anyone in front of that alter besides Emmett was bone chillingly disgusting.

Emmett! My mind wandered to what Emmett would think of all this once I told him as the wedding scene and after party continued to unfold. There was no question of not telling him. I told him everything. He was the only one I let know the real me. The others thought they knew me. In a way, they did. They knew the cold, selfish, vain Rosalie that was consumed with bitterness and jealously and barely let others get close. To them I was strong and independent, tenacious to a fault. They never saw me break. And they almost never saw the lighter emotions I buried deeply beneath all the angst. Emmett did though. He knew how to break down my walls and read me like an open book. It was easy enough to keep Edward's prying mind at bay by filling my head with pointless thoughts that further reinforced his typecast opinion of me. Alice only saw decisions, so even if she knew I was thinking she wouldn't know what I was thinking about. And Jasper, he'd long ago grown accustomed to my usually darker emotions. In fact, it caught him more off guard when I was genuinely happy than it did when I was upset about something… Why in heaven's name did that old woman think the existence I had now was better than the one I could have had with Royce?

The false memories began playing like a slideshow again and I shoved the thoughts of my mate and siblings from my mind. They were all happy scenes, set during the day. It was easy to tell it was the first year of marriage and Royce and human Rosalie seemed blissfully happy together. The stigmatism of the upper class was always hanging in the background, but the life _looked_ pleasant enough.

I noticed vaguely that none of the scenes ever showed us after dark. The few that dared to take a glimpse after sunset were always of me by myself. More often than not the human Rosalie appeared worried about something in these images, her brow creased and fear etched into her violet eyes. It was a shocking expression to see on my face. I had rarely ever been afraid of anything, even as a human. Or, if I was I never showed it. I had always been too proud to let others know the depths of my more vulnerable emotions. Still am…

The next image to flicker across the mirror would have given me a heart attack if my heart still beat. The mirror was never accompanied by sound, but it was easy enough to lip read what the human Rose had just said to a very startled Royce.

"I'm pregnant."

…

…

…

…

…

No! This… I… But… NO! _No_! "No…" The word came out as a strangled gasp as I stared wide-eyed at the hand held looking glass. I could have had a child. There was no question in my thoughts. I would have had that blonde haired, blue eyed little girl or boy I so desperately wanted. The human Rosalie staring back at me was a happily married woman pregnant with her first child. How could that life possibly be worse than the existence I now suffered?

I continued to watch the mirror, choking back dry sobs. Tears would have been streaming down my cheeks if I was still able to cry. I wasn't sure if I was thankful or not for the vampire's inability to truly cry. On the one hand I didn't have to worry about my make-up being ruined. On the other hand… All of this pent up emotion hurt, physically hurt, and it had no true means of escape. If I had just made one phone call then I would have had everything I'd ever wanted. Funny. I was really beginning to hate phones. The phone calls I had never made were just as painful as some of the ones I did make.

The next few scenes went by in slideshow mode until the next moving picture brought the perfect world I was spying on to a crashing halt. "No…" I whispered again, unable to force my eyes from watching the scene unfold. It was one of the elusive nighttime settings and human Rosalie was standing frozen on the staircase, one hand over her slightly protruding belly. Fear was clearly written across her face as a very drunk Royce stumbled towards her, groping at the banister to try and keep his balance. I was thankful I couldn't hear the words being exchanged. Simply watching her as her husband grabbed her wrist and threw her down the flight of stairs in total silence was painful enough. The audio would only make things worse.

The look on Royce's face was malignant. It never once showed any signs of remorse as he began to torment the mother of his child. From the way she didn't fight back it was obvious to see that this was a common occurrence despite the pure terror in the human Rose's eyes. All those happy memories I'd watched before were nothing but a show. The mirror was now revealing to me the true Royce, the man I happily murdered in an act of revenge back in 1933. The fact that this was a moving image meant that something important must have happened amidst the abuse that night. Something was horribly wrong… _The baby_!

I couldn't hold back the sobs now. That innocent child was dead before it even had the chance to see the light of day. Royce had caused a miscarriage and he didn't seem to care. Or rather, he showed his frustration by blaming everything on his wife. The human Rosalie suffered two more miscarriages and a visit to the doctor, a Dr. Carlisle Cullen, revealed that she would most likely never bare a child.

"_Some dreams are destined to never come true, ever."_

"_At least this way the worst of the pain lasted only one night."_

That old woman's words echoed in my head clear as a bell. Human or inhuman I was destined to carry the pain of never having a child of my own. There would never be a sweet, innocent life born of my flesh. At least as a vampire I didn't suffer a lifetime of abuse at the hands of the man I thought I loved. There had only been one horrible, insufferable night before everything was permanently stripped away from me. The me in the mirror, the Rosalie I could have been, lost everything time and again and had no means of escape.

Furiously I flung the hand mirror across the room. I couldn't bring myself to stare at the false images any more. It hit the wall with a sickening thud and the glass it held further shattered, several pieces escaping from their binding. It took all I had not to scream or break something else. I didn't want to draw too much attention to myself while I sulked. I was too vulnerable right now, too weak, too fragile. My frozen heart and bitter head were pulling me in a million different directions all at once and all I could do was curl up into a ball and dry heave. I wish I had never met that haggard old woman! I wish I hadn't listened to her stupid riddles or gazed into her mirror of lies.

That's how Emmett found me upon his return from the weekend "camping" trip. I was as shattered as the glass lying on the floor. The raw emotion on his face only stung at my dead heart more and I refused to look at him. One glimpse had given me all I'd needed to see. Fear. Worry. Confusion. Concern. _Love_… Had I really taken everything I currently had for granted in favor of mulling over impossible dreams? Had I really wasted so much energy on petty emotions simply because I was unwilling to let go of a past that in retrospect was much less worse than my alternative future?

I begged for tears to fall as I felt Emmett's weight sink onto the bed. Gently he scooped me up and positioned me in his lap, laying my head against his broad shoulder and wrapping his arms around me. His hands rubbed up and down my back and arms, fingers tracing soothing patterns against the fabric of my clothing. For the longest while he simply held me in silence, letting me attempt to cry. No one dared to check on us, and I wasn't even aware of who was or wasn't in the house.

"Rosie?" he finally questioned, holding me back slightly and pulling my chin up to look me in the eyes. "What's wrong?"

The emotion that filled his voice made me want to sob again. I had finally calmed down enough to possibly form coherent sentences, and then the immeasurable concern and love laced with his voice had to go and threaten my composure. I really didn't deserve him. Some days I wondered why Emmett even bothered to put up with me. I was more high maintenance than Alice and Emmett didn't have any of the advantages his brothers possessed. He just had his smile, that wonderful, dimpled smile reserved only for me.

Carefully I pulled his hand away from my chin, entwining my fingers with his. I leaned up and gave him a lingering kiss before holding his gaze with mine again. A small, blissfully happy smile turned up the corners of my lips as I gave him the answer I'd finally settled on.

"Nothing is wrong, Emmett. I'm beginning to see that everything is exactly right."

He stared at me curiously, searching my expression for any hint of a lie. He found nothing though. What I'd spoken was the absolute truth. It had taken me more than seventy years to realize it, but it was undisputable. What I had now was absolutely more perfect than anything I could have ever asked for in some other life.

When Emmett decided that I was genuinely happy, a rare occurrence especially after I'd spent so long trapped within the confines of my own mind, that grin I loved so much spread across his face. No more words were said as he dipped his head towards mine and kissed me fully. The feeling was electric, charged with raw emotions I almost never let loose. I moaned as he pushed me down against the mattress, our tongues never missing a step in their passionate dance.

I only broke our embrace once when I thought I heard the dark chuckle of the old woman. Emmett gave me a concerned looked as I twisted my head to glance out the wall of windows. Finding nothing in the darkness I turned back to him, smiling. That was all the reassurance he needed to capture my lips once again in another breathtaking kiss. It was a silent promise, a promise that he would never hurt me. It was a promise the he would never let my reality slip into the nightmare I had yet to tell him about. And, in that moment I silently promised him back. I promised him I would never take him for granted again. Because I loved him. I loved him with everything I had left and only now had I realized that that was so much more than I had originally thought I had. I really was so much better off now than I ever would have hoped to have been.

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**A/N: **And that is the end. Whatcha think? I like it. I really do enjoy writing a darker, more pensive Rose. And the tender moments between her an Em are just soo sweet to portray.

Um, reasons for the actors I mention in my 1930s silver screen comparison. First of all, this is Rosalie we're talking about. The 30s are her human era, so it makes sense to me she'd relate the movie of her false life to movies of that time period. Technicolor was mentioned because most of those movies are still in black and white, but the mirror's images are in color. I picked Katharine Hepburn and Carey Grant because I was watching _Bringing Up Baby _(1938) while writing this. Plus, I love Hepburn and Grant both together and individually on screen. I mentioned Errol Flynn because I think he's cute. Or was cute… Lastly, I mentioned Jean Arthur because after _Bringing Up Baby_ was over _Mr. Deeds Goes to Town_ (1936) came on. I also mentioned her because currently she is closest to my idea of what Rosalie should look like. Yes, she's not a natural blonde and her hair is a bit short, but she's got that pretty, determined 1930s charm I associate with Rosalie.

Anyways, leave a review please! They make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. And if you enjoyed this, check out Lucid, also written by me. It's more dark Rosalie PoV laced with sweet fluff.

Happy holidays! 3


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